


Power Of The Human Heart

by robertstanion



Series: Black Friday Fics [7]
Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Christmas, First Dates, M/M, also the fact john has a dead husband is explained in the chapter, i cried during the first two paragraphs if that helps, johns a sad troubled soul, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24077836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robertstanion/pseuds/robertstanion
Summary: It should have been a simple mission that ended catastrophically. In a way, everything happens for a reason was the only reason why his husband that died that way. Or else two years later, he wouldn't have met Xander
Relationships: John McNamara/Xander Lee
Series: Black Friday Fics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564606
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Power Of The Human Heart

Why did he fall for people in his force? It had happened once before, it would happen again. Last night he was in his arms. Last night he’d fallen asleep in the arms of his husband. A final kiss goodnight, not like they’d know. John had assigned the mission to his husband personally. It was a quick please and thank you, and he was getting ready to go. It shouldn’t have been dangerous. It shouldn’t have been. It shouldn’t have been dangerous. A day or so away from him, that’s all it should have been. But it hadn’t gone to plan. John was awaiting the return of his husband. He wasn’t worried, his husband was one of the smartest people on the force. So he wasn’t worried. He shouldn’t have been worried. Yet when the knock on the door came and his eyes had lit up…he wished they hadn’t. When Colonel Schaffer had stepped in and took a seat at his desk and looked at him, her face was upset. He’d placed a hand on her shoulder, but he hadn’t expected her to whisper the words, “Sir, he didn’t come back. He died on the field.” John looked at her, his eyes pinpointing certain areas of the face, desperate to see the lie, that this was some cruel prank. He never saw the lie, and his husband didn’t come from around the door with that stupid grin of his on his face.

John dismissed her, convincing her that he was fine. He built his borders back up and smoked more cigarettes than he ever had in that day alone. A distraction would come, just not yet. His hands shook when he arrived at home, his hand clutching the brass door knob. He’d twisted it and walked inside, a mild flicker of hope lighting up inside of him. He’d expected to see the man he loved sat on the couch, in the kitchen, anywhere. John hadn’t realised it, but as he’d grown more frustrated to not seeing his husband there, he’d ran, opening every door of the house, each one colliding with the walls with a furious _bang._ It was only when he reached the master bedroom, their room, and he wasn’t there did it settle in. John McNamara was a lonely man and he had been since the day he was born. He’d never been fully loved. He’d been kicked out at 17 for loving a man and put on the streets for a couple of weeks until the current general of PEIP at the time picked him up and offered him a job. That was Gareth. And Gareth had trusted John with the force when he’d died. Not Wilbur, not John’s mentor, but _John._ And by God, he’d be damned if he hadn’t accepted the offer right then and there.

He’d been alone then. He’d been alone then and there, building up PEIP with no idea how. Wilbur hadn’t been as pleased as he should have been when it came to John’s promotion. He’d helped for the beginning few weeks until he vanished. Well, that’s what John wanted them to think. Vanished, and hadn’t given his life up to The Black and White as a symbol of heroism. He hadn’t been a hero that day. He should have stopped Wilbur from going in and he hadn’t. It had been mere months after his father figure and past general had passed away, and now his mentor was gone. John didn’t cry when the portal hissed shut. He only worked on clearing up the case. If there was a plot hole in the tale, he always had an excuse. He always had an excuse that fit perfectly with the time line, the setting, the history between John and Wilbur…it all fit. Nobody saw him cry. Nobody ever had.

He’d joined the force in 2002. General Gareth Icacks had helped him through it, passing him on to Wilbur Cross when it was his time to be begin training properly, when he could actually move from bed in the mornings. Three years later and John met his husband. He hadn’t had a crush on a guy since he’d been kicked out at 17, but seeing the man in front of him with his dark hair trimmed perfectly and his stunning green eyes, it took him by shock. The two grew closer, of course they did, and they shared their first kiss in the breakroom at PEIP. “Be my boyfriend, John, and I’ll never let you get hurt ever again.” He’d said, cupping John’s cheek. John agreed and was soon the happiest anyone ever saw him.

In 2008, he’d been proposed to by his boyfriend, now fiancé. They didn’t waste any time planning their future together. They got married in the spring of 2010. He didn’t cry until he got home, where tears of joy spilled. His husband had held him, his _husband_ had held him and stroked his hair. He understood. He’d always understood.

But John stood, staring at the bed where his husband should be laying, in 2013, and he wasn’t there. Dead. His husband was dead. He’d been on a single mission alone, nobody knew his last words, John couldn’t have comforted him as he passed. His knees went weak and everything turned to slow motion as he fell to the floor and began sobbing. His husband, dead. Why couldn’t he have anything? He’d finally been loved, content, and death came and swept John under the rug as if he were dust. Sometimes he felt like it. Something that could be swept away. He was the general of PEIP and sometimes he felt his team mates laugh at him, cause rumours. He often left the rumours that got back to him unanswered, but if he found the source of the rumours sparked from the same person twice or more, they were fired. He’d dealt with toxicity his entire life. He wished his husband was there for him, or his general, or his mentor, someone to tell him everything would be alright, because right now he was doing an awful job at convincing himself.

When he’d calmed down to a point he could breathe regularly again, he looked to his hand. He slipped off the band before he could regret it and stored it in the drawer located nearby to him. He was overly aware of it sliding shut. It hit him again, and it hit him again, and it hit him again. He found himself going weak when he changed out of his uniform, as he climbed into bed. He could have sworn he felt the pressure of his dead husband’s arms around him, holding him close, and John relived the final goodnight kiss as a tear escaped it’s prison cell and soaked the cotton floor. John squeezed his eyes shut to stop himself from crying, drifting to sleep.

He’d gone to work the next day. PEIP would be in rags if the general didn’t show up for a day. He continued to hand out assignments, being wary of their capabilities. They all began to judge him. He heard the whispers. “The reason he didn’t give you the big case is because he lost his husband. It doesn’t matter if you’re capable or not. He’s scared he’ll lose the best members of his team. A coward. That’s what he is.” But John walked away, he didn’t fight, he kept his guard up and his jaw clenched, facing straight ahead. More members of his team died and he found himself falling again, spiralling until he hit rock bottom. He made sure nobody could tell. He looked exactly the same as he did a year ago, minus the smile and the wedding band, but there wasn’t any evidence of physical arm.

He’d let his hair grow out. He’d said “fuck the rules” and let it grow out. It was down to his shoulders by now. Two years had gone by, two years alone, and his hair was down to his shoulders. It almost earned respect from his team again. John had always abided by rules, he’d always been the follower, never the one to be followed. One by one, he saw his team adjusting their uniform to their satisfaction. Girls wore skirts or leggings if they pleased, he saw a younger girl wearing an oversized shirt. That girl then came out as trans in front of John in John’s office. John had been the very first person she’d told. “I’m not a man, sir, I never will be, and I just hope you can accept me.” Of course he had. He’d stood up and wrapped his arms around the girl. He didn’t see her any differently. He cared for each of his colleagues, if only they cared for him the same way.

The next year he found himself asking the same questions he was when his husband died. Why did he fall for people in his force? It had happened once before, it had happened again. The new theoretical physicist who had joined, Xander Lee. That was the person to capture John’s heart this time round. Not only was Xander a damn good field agent, but he was smart. He knew his worth. He was sarcastic and…John shouldn’t be dating. He hadn’t moved on. Schaffer always told him that he needed to. _He_ knew that he needed to move on, but he refused. There was always the hope his husband would come around the corner undercover. That he’d had to fake his death, that he’d pull his hood down and he’d be there, and who knows? Maybe John would fall into his arms and sob and then after they’d continue as if it never happened. But that day never came.

It was little things at first. Xander bought him coffee one time. “I didn’t know what kind you liked and I asked around the offices, I didn’t get a straight answer, so I got you black. And then I also got a shit ton of creamer and sugar in case you didn’t like it.” And the physicist had emptied his pockets on to his desk. John felt his barriers weaken slightly and took it. Just a gesture, John. It was just a gesture, but it _wasn’t._ It was proof somebody cared, and that was enough. Then it was more little things. Xander paying for John’s drinks whenever he saw him at the bar, which became regular, Xander buying John food when he noticed that he hadn’t had a break. John returned the favours, giving him pay rises, praising him in corridors…asking him on a date.

“What?” Xander asked, blinking, bending down, to pick up the shattered test tube he’d dropped by shock. John swallowed his nerves.

“You can say no, don’t feel like it’s compulsory.”

“Why would you want to go on a date with _me_ of all people? I’m only a physicist! You could have anyone in the precinct and you choose me?”

John smiled at the physicist’s reaction and bent down to help. “When you’ve been in the force for as long as I have, you learn that labels don’t define someone’s personality. You could be a general and be fucking pathetic, or a private with the capabilities to jump all the promotions to lead their own group…or a theoretical physicist with a heart of gold who lights up the room whenever he steps in it. Either way, that’s how I see you, Xander. I see you as someone more than your job title. So, I’ll ask you again, would you like to join me for a meal after work later on this evening at 1900 hours?” He asked and looked across to see Xander beaming.

“General McNamara, I would be honoured.”

They took it steady, well, that’s what he’d thought. Him and Xander were celebrating 11 months since their first date on December 25th 2016\. It had been January 25th he’d asked, and it certainly had lead to their expectations. The date had gone wonderfully, and they’d agreed to a second, a third, a fourth, and then they were together. Officially together. John had been nervous sealing the deal, but he walked with a little more confidence in his stride. It hadn’t been long before him and Xander were spotted in casual wear outside of work a lot more frequently, and it wasn’t as if they’d needed to announce it. But something felt different with this relationship. Something was changing. John was letting his barrier down quicker than ever, and it was because of the soft soul that his boyfriend was. At 7 months, he’d considered marriage, but hadn’t bought it up. He kept the internal thought process to himself and left himself alone. But they’d moved in together at 8 months. People didn’t question if it was too soon, they appeared destined for each other.

Now it was December 25th and it was the later hours of the evening. John had given everyone the day off to spend times with their friends and families, and that included him and Xander. Xander had woken up early. John never had a reason to celebrate, so he’d gotten up and tried to change only to be stopped by Xander, who was in a set of blue pyjamas. “It’s Christmas, take a break.” He’d said, so the two walked downstairs in their pyjamas, well, John in one of Xander’s pyjama sets, but it didn’t matter. They’d both sat on their couch and exchanged presents. It wasn’t much, it was their first Christmas together, but he could see the gratefulness in Xander’s eyes, and John was amazed he’d even gotten things. He hadn’t for the past few years. He’d told his team not to bother. It had been the same this year, but Xander had shook his head and said, “If you’re getting me things, then I’m getting you things too.”

Now they were lay against one another, John resting on Xander’s shoulder, the fireplace flicking embers on to the logs, setting them alight. There was some programme on the TV that neither were paying attention to, and Xander was smiling, his arm wrapped around his general. John felt the shift of Xander turning to face him. It startled him slightly and he looked up to see him grinning. He only furrowed his eyebrows and Xander pecked his lips. “I’ll be straight back.” He said and got up, leaving John to sit upright himself, looking in the direction where he’d gone. He shook his head and allowed himself to zone out, facing the TV as he did. He only zoned back in to the room when he saw Xander holding another gift. He set it down in front of John.

“What’s this?” He asked, tiredly.

“Just open it!” Xander said, practically bouncing in his seat. John, now nervous, unwrapped the box. He rolled his eyes, seeing the ‘pass the parcel’esque gift that Xander had delivered. He’d gotten to the end until he went to open it. It was a little wooden box with a padlock on it that required a code. He sighed and handed it over to Xander, unable to figure it out.

“It’s 2100 hours in the evening, Xander, my mind isn’t focusing enough for this.” He said and looked as Xander punched in the code. Then the world turned to slow motion again as Xander got off the couch and got down on his knee in front of John, the box open with a ring inside. John’s eyes widened and his breath hitched.

“Marry me, John.” Xander said, his grin somehow even wider, genuine. Shaking slightly, and extremely quiet, John took the band out of the box and slipped it on his hand, a tear trickling down his face. Xander nodded and jumped back on the couch, pulling him into a hug, immediately taking to stroking his hair. “Hey, hey, is it too soon?”

John laughed, shaking his head, nestling into Xander’s chest. “I love you.” He said. “And I don’t let just anyone see me cry.”

Xander kissed his hair and held him tighter. “Fiance.” He said as John looked back up.

“Fiance.” John repeated, the word a whisper on his lips.

But then it had been in 2018 when they’d gotten married on January 25th. Xander was a Lieutenant and John was more stable than he’d ever been. Xander’s family had been there to celebrate the day with them. As well as their team. They’d watched him and Xander secure their vows to love each other forever and ever.

Well, they thought it would end up like that. “God fucking dammit!” John had shouted, storming off the balcony and bursting into Xander’s lab, slamming the radio down. “Short circuit.”

“And I assume that the president is in the portal?” He said, grabbing a screwdriver and the radio, the staticky panic in the air between the two.

“He went in five minutes ago. Cross has blown the circuit and-“

“Hey, hey, hey.” Xander said, taking the back off the radio and pliers, cutting another wire. He replaced the back, looking at John. “It’s gonna be alright.” He said and leaned forward on to the desk, clicking the button. “Mr President? Howie?!” There was muffled talk from the other side before clear static. “John…we’re losing him…” he said, his voice full of disbelief. He dropped the radio on the desk and went to work on it before John clapped his shoulder, turning him round.

“Xander, I know what must be done.” He said, his eyes glancing to the portal.

“No…no, John, we don’t have a suit for you- John!”

“Shh…” He said and hugged him tight. “I’ll be alright.”

“No! You won’t you-“ but Xander didn’t get to finish before John slipped out his arms and into the portal. It was agonising, the wait until the portal hissed back to life, and when it did, the president fell to the floor, appearing to be pushed. Xander spun around. “Hey, hey hey hey! Howie, hey-“ he’d tried, but the President was shouting about deploying the nuke. “What about John, he’s still in there?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The voice was enough to snap Xander away from Howard and look to John, a deep scar from his eyebrow to his lip, blood dripping on to the floor. The world went to slow motion as John fell to the floor, only to land in Xander’s arms. He called for a medic. Xander called for a medic, and John was swept away.

He’d gotten separated from Xander again. He was hooked up to everything and it was hours before he could see his husband again. And he found himself asking, Why did he fall for people in his force? It had happened once before, it had happened again, and the third time wouldn’t be a charm. There wasn’t any need. For when Xander ran in the hospital room and grabbed John’s hand after covering up what had happened, he knew he didn’t need to. John offered a weak smile to Xander, who looked worriedly back at him. “I love you,” John whispered, for a tear to fall down Xander’s face.

“I love you too."


End file.
